


Year of the Ox

by Poinsettia



Series: Seven Years [3]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poinsettia/pseuds/Poinsettia
Summary: Seven Years is a series of vignettes that aims to show the development of Wufei and Treize's relationship during the first seven years following the end of the war, with Treize as the winner. Each vignette is titled according to a year of the Chinese calendar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The _Gundam Wing_ anime series is property of H. Yatate, Y. Tomino  & Bandai. No money is being made out if this work.

The sound of exploding fireworks finally stops. For more than half an hour they have illuminated the room with vibrant reds and greens. If I weren’t this high up the building, I’m sure I would be able to hear the people below celebrating. I can’t believe it has already been three years. It doesn’t feel that long since the last time I spoke to Quatre. 

I wonder if Treize would let me go pay my respects to Maxwell and Yuy’s unmarked graves. It’s their anniversary in a week, the only anniversary I truly care about, and not this loud, sickeningly cheerful display of peace proclamations.

Disgusting.

What do they know? For them peace is a pretty concept wrapped in days of honest work and dinner with the family. That there’s something to it beyond the pragmatic facts of daily life is completely inconsequential. They don’t know about the sacrifices that were—are—made, nor do they care. 

Treize says human beings are inherently selfish, really a polite way to say that they are self-centered creatures with barely more ethics than their cousin the monkey. That Meiran or the others died for them seems so pointless to me, now. It makes me feel like—

No.

Stop it, Chang. 

Don’t think about that. Don’t go there. Think “positive”, just like Dr. Sherman told you to. Think on nice, harmless things.

Grandmother telling me stories…

Meiran practicing her katas on the backyard…

Maxwell annoying Yuy over Relena…

The feel of Treize’s hands as they—

Damn!

Nice, harmless things, Chang! Not Treize and his…seduction techniques. I can’t believe I once let myself be tricked by them! So starved for affection that I could be manipulated by a sweet tongue and a hot body. To know that I was—am—at the mercy of Treize’s hands…It makes me feel sick. 

I won’t dwell on the other things it also makes me feel.

With a start I find myself caressing the scar marring the inside of my left arm. For a moment I’m tempted to play with it, but then steel my will against the need to do so. I won’t let this—despair, loneliness, heartache—win. I’m stronger than that. There will be no more little happy-pills and nurses round the clock to watch over me. I have left that behind me. I will keep at least this modicum of bitter freedom.

There’s a television set on the other side of the room. I pick up the remote and turn it on. Treize’s face is on every channel, a live transmission of his speech during tonight’s ceremony commemorating the end of the war and Oz’s victory.

"...we have all work hard..."

Yes, some more than others.

"...we have all made sacrifices..."

Some people bigger than others.

"...it has been worth the reward, though..."

Has it, really, Treize?

"...nothing is too high a price for peace..."

Liar.

Two hours later I hear the door open and close followed by muffled steps on the hotel room’s carpet. I don’t look away from the monitor, where a news reporter is giving the highlights of Treize’s speech. The room suddenly sinks into darkness as a hand takes the remote from mine and turns off the screen. A caress on my cheek makes me turn my head to the side, enough for a pair of lips to press a kiss near my mouth.

“Did you enjoyed the fireworks, Dragon?” a voice whispers in my ear.

You have no idea.


End file.
